


Holidays in the Sun

by feverbeats



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Clearly," Spike growls, "I wasn't trying to hurt you, now was I?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holidays in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday gift for Hokuto.

Spike is _pissed the fuck off_. It's bad enough that he's got a damn chip in his head so he can't kill people, but now he's stuck living in Xander's basement. Couldn't they have at least put him with one of the cute ones? He's rather fond of Willow. He'd even tolerate living with the Slayer, as long as she promised not to kill him.

Xander, on the other hand, is very much the opposite of fun. He makes Spike do laundry and make sandwiches and other chores which are _so_ beneath an awesome vampire. Of course, the awesome vampire tends to shrink the clothes and make bologna and peanut butter sandwiches, but at least he's trying. Of course, they both understand that he'd suck Xander dry (and mmm, sucking Xander, but that's just the heat talking) if given half a chance.

But hey, Xander's just a fucked up kid, and Spike's not going there, not after Drusilla. A crazy lover is one thing, but a teenager who can't get his shit together is something else entirely. Next time he's hoping for someone who's a little closer to sane. Teenagers, he's decided, are the craziest people alive. Especially teenagers from California.

Spike disapproves of California in general. Earthquakes and malls and Hellmouths are not the place to be, especially if you're a Victorian poet at heart. Most of all, though, Spike disapproves of the heat wave they're having.

So, he passes the time as best he can, eying Xander's neck and glaring disdainfully at the basement's shabby furniture. As if being basically impotent isn't enough, he's also stuck in the most hideously decorated basement in the whole world, or at least in this state.

Halfway through the week, while Xander is out, Spike decides to do a little redecorating. He may not be able to bite people, but he can still fight the Scoobies with all his might.

*

Xander buries his face in his hands. "Am I going crazy, or did you totally ruin my parents' basement in the course of two hours?"

Spike grins, because _damn_ it feels good to be a gangster. "You're not crazy, mate." He's really rather proud of his handiwork. The walls are covered with posters of the Sex Pistols and characters from Passions. His soaps are on at low volume on the grainy tv, buzzing in the background. "GOD SAVE THE QUEEN, WE MEAN IT, MAN," the speakers blare.

Xander looks disgusted. "What _is_ this crap? And would it be in any way possible for you to turn it down?"

Spike cranks the music even louder. "Too hot in here," he shouts, as if that's any explanation.

Xander swipes a hand across his forehead. "Uh, no kidding. I think the heat might have fried your brain."

Spike's thinking maybe it has, actually, because he's seriously thinking about kissing Xander. Then again, victory and erections feel surprisingly similar, and maybe Spike just enjoying a good gloat.

Whatever the case, Xander appears to be Highly Unamused. "Spike, take this stuff down! You're a neutered puppy! You have no power over me. As Jennifer Connoley would say."

Spike has long since given up on tracking all of the pop-culture references the good guys make. Besides, when Xander's angry, the veins in his neck stand out, and–

Spike is across the room before he knows it, mouth on Xander's neck. Xander smells of earth and dampness and blood and sweat and _youth_. Spike mouths his neck lightly.

Xander jerks back violently. "Hey! But, the chip! And my dignity!"

"Clearly," Spike growls, "I wasn't trying to hurt you, now was I?"

The light dawns. "Woah, ok, hold up there, fang-boy," Xander sputters, pulling away further. "Clearly you're sexually deprived or on illegal vampire hallucinogens or something, 'cause that isn't normal behavior, at least not from you, and–"

"Bloody hell, you talk more than I do," Spike says, amused. "Why not put that mouth to better use?" It's an old line, but he can't resist.

Sure enough, Xander's face goes into severe-shock-mode. "Buh–But. Ok. No, 'cause, see. No?"

Spike grins. "Bite me."

"That's funny," Xander says nervously. "'Cause you can't bite _me_. Also you're all cold. And icky. And hey, would that be necrophelia?"

"First off, I'm not cold, I'm room temperature." Spike starts to circle Xander slowly. "Second, I'm no ickier than any of those brain-dead girls you've lusted after. Third . . . Yes, it would. Technically. But if _Buffy_ does it, so can you."

Xander's eyes are huge, a sight Spike quite enjoys. Well, if he doesn't get sex out of this, at least he'll get the memory of Xander's shock, which is worth _far_ more.

Xander shakes his head wildly. "Spike, this is crazy. Crazy-talk. And I will have none of it. Begone, foul beast."

"You're funny," Spike says, "But that doesn't mean I can't see right through you." He edges closer to Xander, and Xander doesn't pull away this time. He just stands stiffly, eyes half shut, breathing hard. Spike moves forward even more until his lips just brush Xander's.

Xander jerks like he's been shocked. "Ok," Spike says, "No kissing. I can manage that." He dips his head, nuzzling Xander's neck. _I want to drink you_, he thinks, and his head twinges a bit. "I want to fuck you," he whispers. The chip twinges slightly harder at that, and Spike grins. "I want to fuck you until you break, right here on the floor."

Xander swallows hard. "Uh. I may have had a lot of bad luck with my love life. A lot."

"Then you should do this," Spike breathes again Xander's throat. "Because this has got _nothing_ to do with love, and everything to do with sex. And you're a teenage boy, so I know you're keen on that. Besides, I think we've established that you're a repressed wanker with an inferiority complex."

Leaning forward again Spike a fraction, Xander is silent, and Spike knows he's struck a nerve. Good. Let him rip them to shreds with his words if he can't tear their throats out.

Xander shudders, and suddenly his body is held flush again Spike's, and he's stammering out excuses. "But I don't. I can't. I'm too fucked up for this."

"I'm well-adjusted enough for the both of us," Spike says, knowing it's at least half true. Then Xander's mouth is hot and wet against his, and he grins.

*

Xander sighs against Spike's skin, naked and exhausted and young-looking. "I am so _done_ with this town."

"So'm I. But I'm sticking around until I find out how to get rid of this bloody chip." Besides, he thinks, _Imagine how much fun we'll have when I can hurt you again_. "Maybe," he whispers, "I'll even turn you."

Xander shivers and doesn't say anything. Spike smiles, amused that he's managed to scare Xander. He didn't really expect to be taken seriously, but it's nice, even though he knows Xander will be back to making fun of him ten seconds later.

The CD is coming to an end. "Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now," the Pistols sing. Spike gives in and slings an arm over Xander in a half-cuddle.


End file.
